


The Grange Hall

by Sherloqued



Series: Between Hay and Grass [6]
Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: F/M, Wuthering Heights - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloqued/pseuds/Sherloqued
Summary: A possible glimpse into the future. . .A Blessed Samhain and Happy Hallowe'en!





	

  
Good Spirits  
   
   
   
The Grange Hall was decorated beautifully, just as it was every year she could remember.  
  
Carved and lighted Jack-O'-Lanterns glowered from the front steps, warding off all spirits of ill intent; in the night air, autumn brown leaves swirled among the hay bales and pumpkins and chrysanthemums along the walks and in the barn, the doors open.    Beyond its stately porch columns, cornstalks stood at each side of the weathered grey building's front door, the light from activity inside glowed through the transom window above it.   Inside, in the main hall, flickering candles, and orange and black construction paper-chain garlands draped from the center light fixture to the corners of the ceiling.   Antique farming tools were mounted on the walls, as was the placque with the words " _The National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry_ ".   ~~~~A buffet table set with lots of good food for a potluck supper, and bowls of candy placed throughout; apples floated in galvanized steel washtubs.   It was the county's Annual Harvest Festival and Hallowe'en Party & Dance.  
  
"Jun, come for a walk with me - it's a beautiful night.   We can go watch the bonfire."   Bobby Twist came up beside her with two cups of mulled cider and handed one to her.   His blue eyes danced with mischief, big smile.   His face was done up as a scarecrow and he was dressed in ragged coveralls and a flannel shirt, the torn knees and elbows of which were sewn with colorful stitches and patches, a straw cowboy hat.   Nearly eighteen, he had grown into a slim and wiry young man, and they had loved to roam the ranch's pasturelands and surrounding woods together when they were younger.  
  
She turned and smiled at him, distracted for a moment, took a sip of the hot cider, then squeezed his hand.   There was music playing over the loudspeakers, dancing in the barn.   They waved hello to Josh Calter from across the room.  
  
"In a few minutes," she said, and playfully pushed some pieces of falling straw back into Bobby's shirtsleeves.   She was listening to her father telling stories to the children.  "Let's listen for a bit."  

Bobby took her hand again.   Junior, now eighteen and possessed of her father's wild spirit and love of nature and the outdoors, was dressed as a witch in a simple long black skirt and plain black blouse, her face painted pale white, silver metallic stars drawn along the right side, from her brown eyes to her chin, and a black witch's hat.   It was just like when her father would read to them as children, only now there was an entire crowd of children from all over the county, and he or Jack or some other of the townspeople telling spooky tales up there on the decorated stage, voice carried by microphone.  
  
_"Tell us about the Olden Days when you were a boy!"_ she remembered that she and her sister and her cousins would clamor, dressed in their Hallowe'en costume finery.  
  
_"The Olden Days!_ _I'm not that old, am I?"_ Ennis would exclaim and feign woundedness, and then would proceed to telling them about all kinds of stories of banshees and headless dullahans on horseback who could only be repelled by gold coins, or waking up in sleepy hollows after a hunnerd years, haunted Dutch ships that would disappear right before your eyes, and ghosts rapping at the windowpanes and opening creaky doors at midnight, stories that her grandmother had told him, and that her grandmother's ancestors had told her from even before that.   To think of the old ones and those no longer with us with blessings and be thankful for another good harvest to carry you through the cold winter months until next year.   Or who you might marry in the future.   And now that her Daddy was with Jack, sometimes he would tell the tales too.  
  
_....now this is only an old story, mind....don't know if it's true....the old families have guardian spirits, good spirits....and they followed them across the great sea....to protect them or let them know when a family member was about to leave us....called the bean sídhe, or banshee....her eyes all red-rimmed from centuries of crying...._  
  
_Centuries?...._  
  
_Yesssss....centuries....they sometimes take the form of a beautiful maiden....or sometimes an old woman....washing the clothes of those valiantly fallen in battle in the river....but if you are very clever and outwit her, she just may have to grant you three wishes instead....don't pick up a silver comb you might find on the ground, it might belong to the bean sídhe....or if you hear a loud wail in the forest....because she could be looking for....YOU!_  
  
And then they would all shriek in terror and delight.

* * *

  
   
Junior felt her father's presence nearby as he walked over to the young couple.  
  
"Dad, Bobby and I are going for a walk to see the bonfire.  Okay?"  she asked her father, under his watchful eyes.  
  
"Well all right, but just make sure you're both home 'fore midnight."   Ennis said.


End file.
